He moved to the washbasin and brushed his teeth. Watching him doing that felt more intimate than being naked in front of him. His expression was guarded. Only briefly during sex it had been anything else. I slinked out of the bathroom, giving him privacy. I’d already gone through my evening routine. I’d mostly managed to keep my hair dry during our shower and didn’t want to blow-dry it with him in the room. How could all these mundane activities feel too personal after what we’d just done?

Dropping the towel on the bench, I grabbed my nightgown from the floor and pulled it over my head. Trying to ignore the stain on the sheet, and still seeing it, because I simply couldn’t not see it, I slipped under the covers.

I’d been tired before. I wasn’t now. My body still hummed with adrenaline. When Cassio emerged ten minutes later in low-cut black pajama bottoms, my eyes traveled over him. Many men gained weight once they were married, not enough to be frowned upon by their Capo, but enough to cover up whatever muscles they’d worked hard for in their younger years. Cassio hadn’t. Every inch of him was pure muscle. Nothing soft about this man—not his body, expression, or eyes. If he noticed my silent scrutiny, he didn’t comment. Instead, he got into bed but left enough room to fit another person between us.

Weren’t we going to snuggle against each other? It was something I’d wished for from a marriage.

In the last few years, snuggles had been absent from my life. I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend, who might have given them to me, and I was too old to seek that kind of closeness with my father. My mother had never been the type to show her affection on a physical level to begin with.

I’d hoped that marriage would open the door to affection that went beyond sex. I wanted to be held and cuddled. Maybe I had been foolish to think Cassio was someone who would be up for that.

Cassio twisted his head to me, but remained on his back. “What is it? You don’t have to be scared of me seeking you out again. We fulfilled our duty.”

Duty.

Honor. Duty. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d heard those two words in my life.

“That’s not it,” I whispered. “I just… I…”

Cassio’s dark brows drew together. “I’m not a mind reader, Giulia, and I don’t have the patience to guess your thoughts.”

His voice was rough.

Tears stung in my eyes at his rebuff.

He let out a small sigh, pushed up on his elbow, and peered down at me. “Are you in pain? Did I hurt you more than I thought?”

Of course, he’d think it had to be something physical bothering me.

“Giulia?” His strong hand touched my bare shoulder, and I shuddered under the gentle touch. Misunderstanding my reaction, he pulled his hand away, but I grasped it.

“Can we—” I couldn’t ask a man like Cassio to snuggle. Instead, I moved closer until I could sense his warmth, my fingers still clutching his hand. “Be close like this for a little while?”

For a moment, he didn’t react, only regarded me with those ocean-blue eyes. Then, without a word, he lowered himself to his back, but this time he raised his arm, opening up a spot for me. I slid even closer until I was pressed up to him, my face on his strong chest, one of my legs thrown over his muscled thigh. He smelled good, so good. Strong, warm, and manly. I held my hands awkwardly pressed against my breasts, unsure where to put them. Cassio curled his arm around my body, loosely at first, but then more tightly when I let out a small sigh. Gathering my courage, I rested one hand on his chest. Soon my fingers grew restless—curious.

Until this day I hadn’t been allowed to touch a man, to discover his body. I idly traced the smattering of hair on his pecs, realizing that I liked the feel of it. In the media I’d only ever seen guys with smooth chests and tried to imagine how they would feel. Cassio was all man, strong and with body hair. Not that he was overly hairy… he wasn’t. My fingers glided lower, over the ridges of his stomach, following the trail of hair until I bumped against his waistband.

Cassio gripped my hand. “Giulia.” It was low, dark and almost pained. He pulled back, dipped his head at the same time as I tipped mine up. He scanned my face.

What had I done wrong? Didn’t he like to be touched like that?

I felt the groan more than I heard it. It was on the verge of a tortured laugh. I blinked, trying to figure out my husband. He lifted my hand and firmly pressed it, palm flat, against his sternum. “It stays there.”

He lowered his head back to the pillow then extinguished the lights.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

Cassio grunted, almost a chuckle. “I’m not uncomfortable, and I know that you don’t mean to make me feel the way I feel. That is the problem. Now sleep.” The last was an order.

I gave up trying to figure out the meaning of his words. I wasn’t a mind reader either. Yawning, I settled more firmly against him and closed my eyes. Silence settled over us and my breathing eventually slowed as tiredness overcame me.

Cassio tensed. “Are you going to fall asleep like that?”

“You wanted me to sleep.”

“I do. On your side, not in my arm.”

My stomach dropped. This shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Cassio was my husband, but only by name. I didn’t have strong feelings for him—or even knew him at all. Not saying anything from fear of giving away more than I intended, I scrambled as far away from him as I could.

My side of the bed was cold, not warm like Cassio’s. I swallowed my hurt and my longing, trying to breathe evenly. Still, tears fell from my eyes.

I could make out the outline of Cassio’s head and knew he was watching me. The knowledge that the dark hid my expression from him gave me little consolation because I had a feeling he knew I was crying from the way my breathing had sounded.

“I can’t sleep with someone close to me. Anyone,” he murmured.

I nodded, because words were out of the question.

“I guess it’s fitting that my second wedding night ends the same way my first did—with my crying wife in bed beside me.”

I wasn’t a fan of physical contact at night and had often not even shared the bed with my deceased wife. Not that she would have ever dreamed of wanting to have me close at night. She never bothered to hide her reluctance to have me near her, least of all when we slept together—unless there was something that she wanted from me.

Giulia had asked for my closeness and I’d denied her.

The early morning light illuminated her puffy face. Her lashes stuck to her skin with dried tears. She was close, had moved closer in sleep until we were almost touching. I felt the unreasonable desire to touch her—and not in a sexual way. Propped up on my elbow, I watched her peaceful sleep. As with many nights before, Gaia’s blood-covered body had haunted my dreams. I hardly ever dreamed about the people I’d killed, and yet my dead wife still filled my nights.

Giulia stirred, lips parting in a soft sigh. I pushed myself up and swung my legs out of bed, turning my back to her.

The bed shifted. I threw a glance over my shoulder at Giulia who was sitting up, rubbing her face framed by messy hair. Noticing my attention, her eyes met mine. She smiled hesitantly. The early morning light wasn’t kind to me because Giulia looked absolutely lovely in a very teenage girl way.